


Mother's Recipe

by elliot_ay_ (nikisamazing)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7878709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikisamazing/pseuds/elliot_ay_
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason Cecil doesn't let Carlos cook. But when Carlos shows up at the station, box of [outlawed] baked goods in hand, will Cecil be able to tell him no?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Recipe

**Author's Note:**

> This is reposted from FanFiction.net. I am the original author and decided to start moving my works from FFN to AO3.

Cecil sat at his chair in the recording booth, reading off the news about the Glow Cloud’s new press release - “ _All hail the Glow Cloud. The Glow Cloud is above you, puny mortals -_ ” when Carlos walked in. Cecil’s entire face brightened, and he finished the Glow Cloud’s statements, adding, “ _And now, to the weather._ ”

“Hey!” Carlos said.

“Hey, baby,” Cecil said. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I wanted to bring you these.” He produced a tupperware full of, um, rocks? “They’re my mother’s recipe!”

“What are they?” Cecil asked slowly. He had learned early not to take baked good from anyone but the Council - “ _Never take baked good from anyone but the City Council. We are the only ones that can poison you._ ” Then they had begun howling in unison again and handing out chocolate chip cookies.

“Muffins,” Carlos replied thrusting the tupperware into Cecil’s hands. He sat in the recording chair next to Cecil’s and put a hand on his boyfriend’s leg. His enthusiastic grin was sweet, adorable even, but Cecil was suspicious.

He peeled back the corner of the tupperware and pulled a muffin out. It was hard and weighed more than a muffin of its size should.

Cecil was concerned.

Carlos smiled encouragingly and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

Darn it, that did it. Carlos was too perfect for Cecil to resist his clear desire of approval of the baked goods(?) he had provided Cecil with. Cecil brought the muffin up to his mouth and took a bite, teeth grinding against the hard exterior before hitting the softer [sort of] interior.

“So?” Carlos’ perfect teeth sparkled white in a perfect grin.

Cecil tried to chew, he really did. But this - this - this _monstrosity_ was too hard, too dry for him to get down without aid. He grabbed the glass of water sitting on his desk and choked the bite down.

“What flavor was it?” Cecil asked, taking another, smaller, sip of water.

“I had to alter the recipe a bit. They were supposed to be coconut muffins, but I had to make it gluten free, because wheat and wheat by-products are banned and everything….” he said. “They were kind of an experiment.”

“Mm.” Cecil pondered for a moment. “Might I suggest a little less time in the oven?” He turned to his microphone for a second. “ _And now for a word from our sponsors._ ” He turned back to Carlos.

Carlos cocked his head at him. “I followed how long they were supposed to be in the oven. It said twenty minutes and I put them in at ten forty and took them out at eleven.” He paused, frowning. “Or was it ten twenty? Oh, well, maybe I should have paid more attention.”

“Dare I gaze upon the condo?” Cecil asked. He chuckled in his low voice.

Carlos looked almost offended. “Of course! I cleaned up.”

Cecil kissed the other man briefly, and then pushed him towards the door. “I have to finish my show. See you for dinner, darling.”

“I’ll have a new batch for after dinner,” Carlos informed him. “I need to master cooking so you don’t always have to cook.”

Cecil raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mind cooking.” He shook his head and gestured to the mic. Carlos got his message and left the booth.

Cecil groaned internally. If he had to eat any more of Carlos’ “baking,” he might puke. He called Intern Noor in. “Tips for getting out of eating someone’s food. Research.”

Noor nodded and Cecil went back to the radio show. “ _Well, hello again, folks. It seems we’ve gotten an update on the case of the disappearing stoplights. The City Council has issued a statement that ‘What are you talking about? What stoplights? Those streets never had stoplights and they were most certainly never sold to pay for a new bathhouse for the council. Stop think such preposterous thoughts! You will all just have to learn how to be better drivers on these streets that never had stoplights in the first place._ ” Cecil smiled. “ _Ah, what a wonderful day, Night Vale. And now, a word from Night Vale’s Board of Health._ ”

Intern Noor and Intern Becky entered the booth and Cecil took both sheets of paper they offered. He skimmed over Becky’s first, and then set Noor’s aside.

“ _We have an update to the stoplight story. We have been informed that four accidents have occurred in the hours that the stoplights have been absent for, but the City Council continues to insist that we just need to learn to drive better. Well, Night Vale, I will keep you updated on this during tomorrow’s show. Keep listening for our next show - the word ‘desk’ repeated over and over in every possible intonation. How exciting! As always, goodnight, Night Vale._ ”

Cecil turned the mic off and turned the pre-recorded show on, shoveling papers into his messenger bag but holding onto the piece of paper from Noor. “Good night, Noor, Becky, Station Management.” He stuck his head into the bathroom and smiled at Khoshekh. “Good night, Khoshekh.”

//

“Hey, baby,” he called. “I’m home.” He closed the door and the smell of burnt food hit him. Oh, God. Carlos had actually tried to cook.

“I made dinner!” Carlos yelled.

Oh, dear. This was worse than Cecil had thought. He suddenly wished he’d used that coupon for Big Rico’s on his way home from work.

“Oh,” he said. “Thank you.” He ran a hand through his white hair and kissed Carlos’ cheek.

His boyfriend grasped Cecil’s hips and grinned at him. “Spaghetti and meatballs and broccoli and of course the muffins. A new recipe. More liquid and less oven time.” He ushered him to the table before Cecil could even take off his bag or loosen his tie. “I’ll fix you up a plate.”

He turned back to the stove and the kitchen (which was a huge mess, even though Carlos had claimed he’d cleaned). Cecil was pretty sure Carlos would clean. Carlos was a neat freak, sure, but he sometimes got distracted by science, and Cecil had to finish up.

Cecil stood back up and hung his messenger bag on the back of his chair. He unbuttoned his vest, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the topmost button of his shirt. Ah, that was better.

Carlos placed two plates on the table. Cecil surveyed the food carefully. He picked up his fork and poked at the broccoli. Over-steamed in some parts and browned (as if the pieces had stuck to the pan) in others, it didn’t look horrible. Cecil took a small bite and forced himself to swallow. He looked next to the spaghetti. Carlos watched him, smiling, so he took a bite and nearly gagged. The spaghetti itself was fine (it wasn’t hard to boil water and put noodles in it, though it might have been hard for Carlos), but the sauce was burnt and Cecil was pretty sure the “meat”-balls were made of cardboard that had been left to rot.

Cecil put his fork down and put his hand over the other man’s tense fingers. “Carlos, why don’t you tell me what this is about?”

“What do you mean? Nothing! I just wanted to be able to -”

“Carlos.”

The scientist scowled. “Another scientist mentioned how much she loves bonding with her wife when they cook together. They enjoy it as family time. She said she thinks it’s important that everyone can cook.”

Cecil stood and cleared the plates from the table, pulling his chair closer to Carlos’ and nuzzling the scientist’s cheek. “Perfect Carlos,” he said. “You don’t need to be able to cook for us to enjoy mealtimes or cooking together.” He pulled Carlos up by the hands. “Darling, let’s clean this up and you can help me cook.” He kissed the other man and began to whirl around the kitchen, washing a few pots and removing offensive stove-spills. Carlos soon joined in, scrubbing dishes at the sink, while Cecil got out ingredients for a new dinner. 

When the dishes were done, Cecil smiled, kissed Carlos’ cheek, and began to show him how to make the meal - chicken breasts in tarragon-cream sauce on a bed of rice and grilled asparagus. Carlos watched with intrigue and a hint of desire, and Cecil wanted to stop and kiss the scientist, but he refrained.

When the kitchen got too humid for Cecil’s taste, he unbuttoned his dress shirt and laid it over the chair with his vest and tie. Of course, he still wore an undershirt, but the swirling tattoos covering his arms were now visible to the world.

This was apparently enough for Carlos, and he strode over to Cecil and grabbed his lover by the front of his shirt, kissing him fiercely. When Carlos relented for a minute, keeping his forehead pressed to Cecil’s while they caught their breath, Cecil murmured, “Dinner.” Dark brown eyes locked upon unearthly light purple ones.

“We can pause.”

“We shouldn’t.” But Cecil didn’t move, instead kissing Carlos again.

“You don’t seem too serious about dinner.”

“I am.”

Reluctantly, they broke apart, Carlos still watching as Cecil cooked.

Carlos dried the dishes Cecil washed after dinner. “You know, I still want you to try those muffins,” he said.

Cecil paused for a second. “I, uh, thought we got over your phase of cooking, ah, interesting things.”

“I really do want to perfect that recipe,” Carlos insisted. He looked out the window and got his “faraway, science, [advanced calculation Cecil didn’t understand]” look.

Cecil sighed and took over both washing and drying. Then he watched the other man for a moment and decided to make some tea.

When Carlos finally came back to the realm of Night Vale, Cecil was seated at the table with two cups of steaming tea and several of Carlos’ newer batch of muffins.

Carlos smiled and sat next to Cecil, putting one hand on his knee. Cecil laid his head on Carlos’ shoulder and sipped his tea.

“Try a muffin.”

“Do I have to?” He lifted his head momentarily and grinned impishly at Carlos.

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Please.”

“Alright. But only because they’re your mother’s recipe.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is reposted from FanFiction.net. I am the original author and decided to start moving my works from FFN to AO3.


End file.
